Zhai Mu took a deep breath, forcing himself not to dwell on the gaze lingering behind him.
The target ahead was all that mattered.
The weight of the sniper rifle was on a completely different level compared to the competition rifles he was used to. The heft, precision, and explosive power of the weapon all tested his ability to adapt on the spot. He didn’t know why General Xu had insisted he demonstrate his skills, but none of that mattered anymore. Retreat was no longer an option.
Lowering his gaze, he emptied his mind, focusing solely on the target.
Eyes, sight, bullseye—a perfect line.
Bang!
The muffled gunshot echoed.
Almost instantly, numbers flashed on the electronic screen beside him.
8.9 rings.
The shooting range fell silent.
The score wasn’t bad—especially since this was his first shot without warming up. A period of adjustment was normal.
But as the shooter selected to perform before Marshal He Mo, this result was—far from impressive.
General Xu’s expression stiffened. He was the one who recommended Zhai Mu… yet this was the outcome?
Just as he was about to speak, He Mo lifted his hand slightly, extending two fingers into the air.
At once—silence.
After firing the first shot, Zhai Mu’s nerves completely settled. His following shots became faster, smoother, more precise. The moment the electronic screen refreshed, another bullet had already pierced through the target.
And his scores started to improve.
From 8.9 rings, he gradually climbed to 9.5 rings, and even managed an occasional 9.9 rings.
A flicker of satisfaction finally crossed General Xu’s face. He turned to glance at He Mo—only to see that the Marshal’s expression remained unchanged.
It was as if everything before him was mere child’s play.
Despite decades of navigating the military’s power struggles, General Xu couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy.
It seemed… the Marshal was waiting for something.
Finally, after twenty minutes of continuous shooting, the M-200’s recoil began to show its effects.
Zhai Mu’s shoulder blade shifted slightly out of place, forcing him to stagger back a step.
This shot—only 6.4 rings.
His face stiffened. He glanced at the electronic screen, took a deep breath, and readjusted his stance.
Another shot.
This time, 7 rings—better, but his shoulder was now completely numb.
The human body can be trained to withstand new-generation weapons, but in the initial adaptation phase, before specific conditioning takes place, the compatibility between the weapon and the shooter is most clearly revealed.
And it was clear—Zhai Mu’s limit was twenty minutes.
Beyond that, no matter how he tried to adjust, his scores fluctuated erratically. He never surpassed 9 rings again.
Of the 500 rounds prepared, he hadn’t even used them all.
By the time the 30-minute mark arrived, over 100 rounds remained.
The entire shooting range fell dead silent.
Zhai Mu had spent years honing himself in the military, mastering the ability to stay calm under pressure.
Yet at this moment—his face was grim.
A former shooting champion?
He had never felt this defeated before.
Seated lazily against the back of his chair, He Mo suddenly raised his hand and gestured toward General Xu.
The General immediately leaned in, listening attentively.
Then came a voice—magnetic yet cold. “Take off his shirt.”
For a moment—Zhai Mu froze. He stared in disbelief at the Marshal towering above him, questioning whether he had heard correctly.
General Xu, however, suddenly had a flash of realisation. His eyes lit up.
Could this be the reason the Marshal had personally taken time out of his schedule to observe this demonstration?
No wonder he had insisted on not bringing in professional snipers.
At the same time, elsewhere in the city—
Just that morning, two people had been ambling through a casino together.
Yet now—within mere hours, Zhai Mu had found himself in uncharted territory, facing an unprecedented situation.
Meanwhile, Leng Yiyao stood at the entrance of her villa, watching the chaos unfolding before her—her eyes filled with amusement.
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